The other day I took my dog for a walk. Mrs Bard and I were away, so the novelty of not just opening the door and saying “Shoo!” was a new experience for Dog and I. However once in the park we soon learnt some new rules that don’t seem to apply here on the farm…

No lead meant some baler twine,
Tied to the collar should do fine!
Then off to the park for Dog and me,
Cocked his leg on every tree!
A polite “Good Morning!” to all around,
The response a ‘don’t-know-you’ filthy frown!
Into the park remove the lead,
“Look at the sign, can’t you read?”
“I thought Dog could just run?
Without his freedom where’s the fun?”
A haughty lady asked me, “who,
Is going to pick up that dog’s poo?”
At that moment a screaming sound!
“My poor Mimi whose is that hound?”
Dog and I slunk away,
Won’t go back to that park to play!

To all dog walkers: This is written with tongue firmly in cheek as, with a few exceptions on which this is based, all dog walkers are sociable and amicable folk. It is the minority, as in with all walks of life, that give the majority a bad name. “Rover! Rover! Oh where has that dog gone now? Sorry, must dash…” 

© Baldock Bard 2015
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